Reaching My Chin

I've long had a healthy respect for water. For swimming. For the ocean. I'm not a great swimmer. In fact, even today as an adult I cannot go underwater without having to physically plug my nose. I never really learned to swim. I hated the feeling of water coming in my nose, burning my sinuses, so much that I didn't practice breathing out correctly underwater and thereby never learning to really swim. I'm a dog-paddle-but-pretend-like-I'm-doing-a-breast-stroke kind of a girl. This is the main reason I respect the power of water... because I feel powerless against it. 

Life right now, in this moment, has me feeling like I'm treading water but the water is winning. It's at my chin and I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to keep my head above the surface. 

A new baby. 

A new kindergartner. 

Homeschooling. 

Therapies. 

Schedules. 

Driving. 

Breastfeeding. 

Reflux.

Money. 

ABA. 

Shunts. 

Seizures. 

Colic. 

I might lose my mind. 

Our home is still in survival mode. We checked ourselves into that unfortunate camp on the day that Ollie was born. We knew we were doing it. Everyone who has a newborn is told that they're going to be entering this 'fog' but they're never told when the fog is going to lift. I suppose its assumed that it lifts at 6 weeks. Doesn't that feel like a milestone? Or when does the term 'newborn' no longer apply? Isn't that when you should be walking out of the San Francisco-like dream state. A glazed look on your face and a happy baby in your arms? Four months in to Oliver's life and we're still there. 

I'll admit, the fog is thinning. We no longer have a screaming baby from 5pm-Midnight. He's fussy when he wants to be. He's gassy. He wants to be simultaneously walked around the house while another adult is also fawning over him, talking in baby talk and adoring him. He's really got the life. But I'm still having to change my spit-up soaked shirts too often everyday and if you're our barista in the Starbucks drive thru, then you're going to get a screaming baby cry in your headset. But it's okay because it's getting better. So, so, so slowly getting better. 

But if that wasn't enough, Darby is starting kindergarten in less than 2 weeks. And we've happily decided that homeschooling is the best option for his education this year. He has been in public school preschool for 3 years now, and while it was great and did wonderful things for him... we felt like it started to fail in meeting his needs. But I'm homeschooling through his school district, so I feel like I'm at the mercy of their crazy schedule and no one has time for us. A dozen phone calls over the summer have gone unanswered, to be returned literally 5 minutes before a doctors appointment at 4:45pm on a Friday. My stress level was rising. The phone call just brought more bad news, as all phone calls from public services seem to do "Oh this is the first year that we've created this new rule..." I swear we're guinea pigs and I'm super over hearing this line. And it left me at their mercy again as they were going to have to "check on those things" and call me back. Their call back record really inspired confidence in me that day.

And the cherry on top is the weight of Darby's disability and his future that has decided to perch on my shoulders recently. During this absolutely crazy season of life. What will his future look like? Should we be doing something differently? Should we try out this therapy program called ABA? Should we be doing music therapy? Are we missing something? If we do ABA, all I've heard about it is that it's 20 hours a week... 20 HOURS A WEEK. On top of our 4 hours of private therapy. 5 hours of school provided therapy. 320 daily minutes of school. Oh and eating and drinking and then possibly blinking. For reals? 

But what if this is the key? What if this makes all the difference in the world for Darby? Then it's worth it. It's absolutely worth it. 

My calendar is full. My heart is full. But it's also heavy. It's heavy with doubts, fears, and every other emotion you feel when you face the unknown. I get so bogged down in everything that our family is facing that I crave being out in the world. I want to know someone else's problems. I want to love someone else and serve them. I want to serve like Jesus served because thats where I feel him closer to me and feel His grand purpose for life that is way, way bigger than my appointments for the week. 

And while getting out is not always practical, I keep serving my family. I keep changing the diapers and wiping the counters. Folding the laundry and picking up the shoes in the hall. Jesus is glorified when I do even those little things. Little things that help me remember to just keep putting one foot in front of the other. I will step out of this fog soon. Jesus is strong enough to pull us out. He's not letting go and I'm not going to drown.